


let down your hair (so I can climb up to heaven)

by nnegan13



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: F/M, canon divergence - 3.03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 11:40:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18342953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nnegan13/pseuds/nnegan13
Summary: His head tilted as he followed her progression to her current half-sitting up position and he smiled softly. “You remember how we decided you’re terrible at singing?”This was what he wanted to bring up? She sighed. “You decided that, but yes.”He grinned. “Well, your kissing is as good as your singing is terrible.”She couldn’t help her smile, but at least the darkness covered her blush. “A fucking cliche, Eduardo.”





	let down your hair (so I can climb up to heaven)

**Author's Note:**

> bit of a divergence from the sleepover clip but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> title from "More" by Jasmine Thompson. vibe mostly not lyrics

The strumming of the guitar faded into the empty spaces of Edoardo’s house and Eleonora couldn’t stop staring at him. His face was still turned down, luckily enough, all she could see was his ratty mess of curls and if she told herself there weren’t tears welling in her eyes, there weren’t. 

He had a beautiful singing voice, she thought. One to match his face…

He looked up and she drew her eyes away, looking down to the side at a pile of crumpled napkins and wine bottles. It was disgusting in here, but she was grateful for the reminded of reality. It made that uncomfortable hollowness in her chest evaporate. Letting her hair fall in front of her face a little, she took the opportunity to wipe at the wetness on her cheeks, before flicking it out of the way and meeting his eyes with her own. “Good song,” her voice was still congested, unfortunately, and she cleared her throat, sniffing a little. “How many girls have you played that one for?”

Edoardo had a pleased little smile at his lips and that hollow in her chest was opening again. He was too charming to look at, she decided. A pretty face, a pretty voice, to mask the indecencies he’d committed against her friend, against a number of girls. Passively reminding herself wasn’t doing any good, that hollow was still gaping. Just think of Silvia, of that horrible night after Alice’s party, the pregnancy scare, the fucking date, the wall…

The wall. That was it, just think about how many of those marks must’ve heard the same song, the hollow was closing—

“Just you,” Edoardo said, fingers curling over the frets. He plucked a string with his other hand and the note jarred her system as much as his sentence did. She had to remember what’d she’d just been accusing him of, being a player, the damn songs for the girls he wanted to bed, and a sweet smile that hid a preying viper— “I just learned it, had to try it out once before I could use it as my perfect weapon.”

The hollow closed, her admonition fell. Once again, they were nothing to each other except acquaintances caught in an awkward situation.

His smile was teasing and she resolved herself to take no more of his words to heart. She gave him a clap or two and stood. “Oh, very impressive, King Incanti. You’re sure to catch many more girls now.”

And the smile turned self-deprecating and she couldn’t look at him anymore. She cross the entryway to grab her mug off the side table and turned to lean against it. She eyed the coatrack, his leather jacket somehow heavier than it’d been as she’d sat in the living room. Her tea was still warm, thankfully, and she sipped it, eyes now drawn to him as he stood and placed the guitar back on the wall. He took his time, walking over to her, checking Instagram and Snapchat, no doubt, and hopefully Filo had texted him already.

She bit her lip, rubbed it between her teeth and look at the door longingly. Oh, sweet escape, this was shaping up to be a disaster.

Then Edoardo was there, feet centimeters from touching hers, holding out a hand. She placed her mug in it, hoping it might get him to go away, but as he took it he extended his other hand, moving just a little more into her space. “I think this is for you.”

His phone was ringing, Filo’s number flashing across the screen, and her hand shook just a tiny bit as she took it from him. Their fingers brushed and she fumbled to answer it once before the call finally connected. “Filo…”

Edoardo had disappeared down the hall toward the kitchen during her daze of confusion and relief. Her conversation with Filo was brief, he was home, but suddenly Edoardo’s house was someplace she never wanted to leave. She pulled his jacket closed around her chest and pressed her nose into the collar, mumbling as Filo asked question after question. Yes she was fine, no she didn’t need to be picked up, she was sleeping at Eva’s, and then _love you, goodbye_ and she was standing in Edoardo’s front hall. The front hall of the house in which she would no doubt sleep tonight.

The jacket smelt like leather, of course, but also like something she’d caught earlier that night during her frantic search for answers, just minutes ago as Edoardo had handed her the phone. His shampoo, or soap, or fucking laundry detergent, and she couldn’t pull away.

This house was cursed, or something. No other reason for her to be acting the way she was, declining the option to return to her own home, listening to assholes singing scratchy songs, and smelling other people’s jackets.

Disaster.

Eleonora managed to get herself off the table and wandered down the hallway, examining the pictures hung there. Out of all the artistic shots and renderings, there was only one she could peg as a family photo. His mother, or the woman she assumed was his mother, shone like a star, and her gut wrenched.

She forced herself down the rest of the hall and into the kitchen, arms folded across her chest. Edoardo was at the stove, again, pulling off the pot from earlier and the countertops looked decidedly less cluttered than they had twenty minutes ago. She pushed herself onto the counter where she’d sat earlier and he looked over at her with an inquisitive smile. “What did he say?”

“He’s at a party in Viterbo, it was really loud, I didn’t catch much,” she replied, mouth with a mind of its own tonight. Why was she lying? He stepped over to her, mug in hand, and she caught a whiff of that smell in his jacket.

“Do you want to sleep here, then?” She took the mug from him, tried to ignore how his hand was pressing into her thigh where he leaned against the counter.

“Yes,” she said, took a sip of tea to fortify herself. “But I’m not going to sleep with you.”

His laugh was sweeter than his voice and she had to look away for a moment as his face split with a smile. She thought of his mother’s picture in the hallway and knew that apologizing again would be overkill but her insides were welling up, guilt overtaking that strange hollow Edoardo was creating in her chest and she had to speak. “Who took the photo in the hallway?”

“Which one?” His tone was amused at her question and she couldn’t detect sadness or defensiveness and so she pressed on.

“The one of your family.”

“What family?”

“Eduardo.”

“Oh, so we’re back to the wrong name, are we?” He turned to look at her and laughed a little. She hoped her expression was thoroughly displeased, and pursed her lips. He shrugged again. “Ah, a friend of my parents, I think. Why do you ask?”

It was her turn to shrug. “No reason. It’s a beautiful picture.”

He eyed her for a moment and she took a sip of her tea, hoping she wasn’t being suspicious. At least, no more suspicious than this whole night was lining up to be. “Hm, okay. Bed, now?”

She nodded and set her tea on the counter. “Bed now.”

But then he stepped as she slipped down from the countertop and they were standing chest to chest, her feet just inside his. Her breath caught as his hand brushed her arm and she couldn’t look away from how his hair fell across his forehead. The yellow light of the kitchen caught in the strand and they glowed and his breath smelled like the lemon tea they’d been drinking and his hand was on her arm, still, and she thought for a moment that they might kiss—

He stepped back. “Sorry.” He backed up to the doorway, watching her as he went, and stopped when she didn’t follow. He pointed over his shoulder.“It’s this way.”

Grabbing her mug was an excuse to look away from him, so she did so, even though her stomach wouldn’t be able to stand another sip, and followed him up the stairs.

— 

The pillow barrier was built, she caught a glimpse of Edoardo changing in his mirror, her brother had been texted, and now they lay in silence in the dark, and she knew he wasn’t sleeping either. Against her better judgement, Eleonora rolled onto her back. “Tell me something.”

“What?” She knew it, he was awake, too.

“I don’t know.” She rolled onto her side and he did the same, if the rustling was any evidence. “Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything at all.” She smiled a little, “Especially if it’s boring. I can’t sleep.”

“Shit, then,” there was a smile in his voice as he talked and she closed her eyes, preparing for the worst. “I can’t tell you about our best parties, then. They’re no bedtime story.”

She scoffed. “I can imagine.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He was still smiling, she knew.

“Your parties are legendary for bad decisions,” she said. “Every one I’ve been to has either resulted in drama for my friends or your friends making complete asses of themselves. I wouldn’t want to listen to them anyway.”

He clicked his tongue, “Okay,” sounded skeptical. “What would you like, then?”

“Anything but that.”

He chuckled. “Okay, first time stories it is.”

“My god,” she muttered, turning her face into her pillow. It smelled like him, just like everything else in this damn house.

“No, I’m kidding,” he laughed and she felt him shift on his side of the pillows until the sound of his voice was much closer, “I’ll tell you instead about the first soccer match my parents didn’t come to. Sufficiently depressing, you’ll be asleep in minutes, I guarantee.”

“When was the last time someone called you an asshole?”

He chuckled again and that hollow was back. She was fucked. “Earlier, at the party.”

“Mm, seems likely.”

He was still laughing and she knew the next words out of his mouth would be damning, her reaction even more so, whatever they both were. “Can I do something, then?”

“Depends.”

“Can I kiss you?”

She froze, entire body one block of icy anticipation. _What the hell was that?_ “Trying out another tactic for girls you want to sleep with?”

“I thought we established we wouldn’t be sleeping together?”

“We did.”

“Besides, this is too nerve-racking to do every time,” Edoardo admitted, still laughing, and her body deflated. This was like earlier with the song, maybe. She didn’t know. But that didn’t hurt too much, so this likely wouldn’t, either, if she decided to go through with it. Perhaps it would get the hollow in her chest to finally close. It obviously had something to do with him, everything he did was gaping it wider and wider.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he admitted and then his voice was muffled by his pillow, like he was ashamed, “I can count on one hand the number of girls that I’ve had to ask to kiss before.”

“Had to?”

“Come on,” he pleaded. “Most of the time we both want to, so asking isn’t always necessary.”

“Most of the time?”

“I’ve never kissed a girl who hasn’t wanted to or hasn’t said ‘yes.’”

“What about me?”

“Did we kiss and I missed it? Damn.” She had to laugh at that, it wouldn’t stay down. She understood, though. She hadn’t always had to ask, either. “But I wouldn’t kiss you if you didn’t say ‘yes,’ Ele.”

“Who said you could call me Ele?” she asked, shifting forward involuntarily. Her eyes were adjusted enough to the dark that she could make out his features a little. His eyes were bright, smile mischievous. That hollow felt like a canyon in her chest, now.

“Who said your friends could call me Edo?”

“Everyone calls you Edo.”

“Except you.”

“That’s true, Eduardo.”

“Everyone calls you Ele.”

“No, Eva calls me Ele, Filo calls me Ele,” she insisted. She pointed a finger at him and by the way he smiled she knew his eyes had adjusted to the dark, too. They were seriously close together. “You don’t get to.”

“Fine.” He closed his hand around her finger and their hands pressed into the pillow. She could see his face quite clearly. She wondered if he would try to kiss her, despite what he’d said on the matter. “Do you still want a bedtime story?”

“A bedtime story?”

“Why do you keep repeating me?” His face when he teased her was addictive and the darkness of the room made her feel like she could keep looking.

“Okay, sure, tell me something. Help me fall asleep.”

“Very good,” he said, and tugged a little on her finger. She shifted ever so closer. “Once, when I was younger, I had a friend who had a cat.”

“Exciting.”

“Shush.” He squeezed her finger once. “Her family went on vacation but instead of asking us to watch their cat at their house, they just had us keep her at our house.”

“What a weird friend you had.” She was whispering now, the darkness like a blanket over their heads. She felt like a small child, sharing secrets with him.

“If you keep talking I’m never going to finish my story, you’ll never fall asleep.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“To what? Finish the story, fall asleep?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to finish the riveting story of my friend’s cat?”

“No,” she said and bit her lip. His eyes followed and she realized, eyes widening, that a sliver of moonlight illuminated her face, but didn’t fall on his. He had the advantage here, being able to see her expressions clearly. But, then it dawned on her what she did want, Edoardo’s tongue flicking over his lips. “Ask me again.”

“What? You don’t want the bedtime story?”

“No,” she said, and swallowed, and hoped her expression was blank. “What you asked me earlier.”

It took a moment for him to understand, but she watched it unfold on his face. His eyes flickered, eyebrows drawing up then smoothing out, and he pressed his lips together. Were they soft like the rest of his skin?

“Eleonora, can I kiss you?”

She nodded, but knew he wouldn’t move unless she said it out loud. “Yes.”

Then he was there, hesitant, nose rubbing against her own and she tilted her chin up and up until finally he pressed his mouth onto hers. His lips drew around her upper lip and then she moved to do the same to him, over and over, intoxicating. When he pulled back to press his forehead to hers and kiss along her cheekbone, she caught the scent from his hair and, fuck, her hollow chest wasn’t filling like she thought it would. She almost panicked, but instead pressed her mouth back onto his.

She hardly drank, but kissing him reminded her of being drunk. That incredible high. And with that came—

“Mm, okay,” she said, pulling away. Initially, he moved to follow, but once he saw that she wasn’t just pulling away for air, he shifted back onto his own pillow.

She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at him on the other side of the bed. The sliver of moonlight slid off her face and the comforting darkness that convinced her to do this in the first place swallowed her up. She was glad for it.

His head tilted as he followed her progression to her current half-sitting up position and he smiled softly. “You remember how we decided you’re terrible at singing?”

This was what he wanted to bring up? She sighed. “ _You_ decided that, but yes.”

He grinned. “Well, your kissing is as good as your singing is terrible.”

She couldn’t help her smile, but at least the darkness covered her blush. “A fucking cliche, Eduardo.” She looked away from him, though, and her mind had wandered back to thinking about Edoardo and the wall, the guitar, the tea, how many things was he doing now that he’d done to get other girls into his bed? It wasn’t even like he had to try that hard anymore, she was here, already. “How many girls have you told that to?”

“By the amount of times you’re asking about the other girls I’ve been with, you’ll make me think you’re jealous,” he teased and she rolled her eyes.

“I mean, is that a line to get me to kiss you again?”

“Oh no,” he said and she looked over at his tone, condemning. He patted the pillows between them. “I don’t want to make you do something you’re not comfortable with, and I can tell this situation might fall outside of those qualifications.”

Eleonora shook her head. How was this not an act? His eyes, though, flashed with sincerity and his lips were curved not with mirth but with contentment. He blinked, sleepily, as she studied him and finally reached the conclusion that he was being truthful.

Her body couldn’t help itself, after that. She ducked her head and leaned down to his face, eyebrows raising in surprise. She nudged her nose against his and it was his turn to tilt his chin up and up, taking the small, short pecks she planted on his lips until her brain caught up with her body and she rolled onto her back.

“Good night,” she mumbled, and shifted to her side, curling around the hollow in her chest, turning away from him.

“Good night, Ele,” he replied and she was getting used to hearing the smile in his voice.

—

“I heard about the fundraiser,” she said and regretted it as his mouth twitched up.

“Yeah, are you coming?”

“I don’t think so.” She wanted to step back, there was room to step back, but something was stopping her.

“Don’t you want to help people in need?”

“I do help them.” She looked him up and down, noted that he wasn’t wearing the leather jacket, and tried not to feel dejected. “Not you.”

They spat more words back and forth, she tried not to feel too pleased when he said he listened to her radio program and she avoided touching him at all costs (god knows where that might take them), and then she let it slip. “You’re going to help your friends through prostitution?”

He scrunched his eyebrows and made a little noise and she copied him. How could he not know what she was talking about? She folded her arms across her chest. “Does first prize ring a bell?”

He studied her with those damn eyes, those damn curls falling across his forehead, and she had to work to keep the fire of anger alive in her heart instead of succumbing to that hollow she had now titled “the Void.”

“Okay, I see what this is about,” he said, cracking a little smile. She chuckled too, hopeful that he really did, but then he opened his mouth again and her hopes were dashed. “You’re jealous I’m going to kiss another girl on Friday.”

She frowned. “I couldn’t care less what you do.”

“Mm, okay,” he said, grin curving up the side of his face. “The other night meant nothing, then.”

“I figured it would to you, why does it matter what it means to me?” She asked, confused. “If one of us is indifferent, that’s enough for any possibility, even, of something happening to be ruined.”

His grin turned just a little, the light from the windows shifting across his face as the leaves on the trees just outside moved, and Eleonora felt something bottom out inside her. “Whoever said I was the indifferent one?”

Her breath shuttered in her throat and those same wonders came flooding back _is this a line is this a line is this a line?_ and her lips parted. “You say no, that the other day meant nothing, and I’ll leave it alone, I’ll leave _you_ alone.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, anger forgotten, hollow opening and opening and opening. “And if it did mean something?”

“I’ll get them to change the contest,” he started.

“A promise that you won’t participate in prostitution? You’ve met all my standards, Eduardo,” she interrupted. Her anger was back, that hollow was on fire, now, and it felt almost like her insides were melting. “That means nothing. You’ll just be kissing another girl next week.”

“Ele—”

“Don’t call me that.” She moved to leave.

“Eleonora,” he said softly, hands at his sides like he promised, and she stopped, looked back up at him. “I won’t be kissing other girls next week.”

“Why not?”

He licked his lips, looked nervous. She studied his face. It was intriguing how much this mattered to him. Once she’d heard about the fundraiser, the raffle, she just assumed that the other night had been the same for him as it always was, if not enough effort to put him off relationships entirely. To know that he wasn’t indifferent, that this had meaning to him, split her chest in two, even if she told herself it didn’t.

“I don’t want to kiss any other girls.”

Her lips parted. “Oh.” She shifted on her feet. “Okay.”That chasm, the damn Void, widened even more now that her being was split and she felt like the rest of her body might shatter if he said another thing. But, she couldn’t leave yet. There were things that needed to be said. That is, if she could think of what they were. She smiled. “Damn you.”

“What do you mean?” He grinned, shy, and look just as scared as she was, if she stared past the dark shutters of his eyes.

“You’ve put me in a situation that I can’t refuse,” she admitted. His smile curved wider and she was still angry enough to put conditions on it. “The other night meant a lot to me, which is why I want to make sure you’re not going to fuck this up.”

“Fuck things up? Me? I would never,” he said, teasing, but she could tell by the crinkles around his eyes how happy he was. She tried not to feel too pleased deep down, she had no idea how he would take what she was going to say next.

“Hm, I can’t start something with you now,” she told him and watched his face fall just a sliver. “I have to figure things out with Silvia and I want to make sure I can trust you.”

“Okay,” he said, in English like he was wont to do when he felt a little uncomfortable. She tried not to grin. “What would you like?”

“Three weeks,” she held up her fingers, “Party like you regularly do, drink like you regularly do, hang with your boys like you regularly do. No kissing, no hooking up, no girls. We’ll be there if you invite us, but no girls includes me, I want to see if you can have restraint.”

“Restraint is my middle name, Eleonora,” he said, seemingly fine with her conditions. He even grinned as she spelled them out. It seemed promising, but she remembered the weeks after the Silvia incident when Edoardo was, time after time, with a new girl each party they saw him at. “And after three weeks?”

She tilted her head. “I’ll have things worked out with Silvia.”

“And?”

“And, you can take me out again.” His smile filled her chest, filled that hollow, and she finally understood what it meant. Like the other night, she was fucked. “We can see how it goes from there.”

He extended his hand, seemed to hold his breath, and chuckled a little when she took it and shook. “You have a deal, Ele.”

She stepped away from him, toward her class. “May the better person win.”

She turned to walk down the hallway, smiling as he called, “What’s that supposed to mean?”


End file.
